


In a Land of Myth and a Time of Magic

by anxielin



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merlin (TV) Fusion, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Magic, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Everyone Has Issues, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Multi, Nonbinary Deceit | Janus Sanders, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roman is a bit of an asshole at first, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), Violence, Virgil is Merlin, but he gets better!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxielin/pseuds/anxielin
Summary: "In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. His name: Virgil."A young warlock named Virgil finds himself in the kingdom of Camelot, where he makes friends and enemies alike, discovers a purpose for his forbidden magic, and learns of an ancient prophesy that he, perhaps, plays a part in.Or: a Merlin!AU that veers wildly away from canon and will probably be a mess.
Relationships: (i think) - Relationship, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: AUgust 2020





	1. A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first Sanders Sides fic! This is a Merlin AU- it's set in the universe of the Merlin TV show, although I don't think any prior knowledge of the show is needed to read this.  
> I'm using the AU-gust 2020 Writing Challenge (link in end notes) as an excuse to post this. I plan on continuing this fic, but I have no clue how frequently I'll be able to update it. Please let me know if you would like to see more of this AU!  
>  **Content Warnings** can be found in the end notes. Please stay safe and check these! If you have any questions about the warnings (or this fic in general), or I missed a warning, please let me know!

> _“No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. And so it will be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot - a boy that will, in time, father a legend. His name: Virgil.”_

This boy, Virgil, currently finds himself among the traffic of people entering and exiting the aforementioned gates to the great city of Camelot. His hair and clothes are both of dark color, except for a purple bandana around his neck, and he’s hunched over, partially due to the weight of the bag on his back and partially because of the relative chaos of the city gates. People, carts, and beasts of burden filter in and out in a semi-constant stream, generating overwhelming amounts of sights, sounds, and even smells. He is one of many who cross past the threshold and into the city proper, which is similarly teeming with people, all going about their daily lives. Most are common folk, dressed simply for hard labor, but among the sea of muted colors are a few glimpses of royal red.

It’s a lot all at once. Virgil finds himself curling inward and hiding behind his hair, but even then, he can’t resist staring at his surroundings through his bangs with wonder. The city is unlike anything he’s seen before. But the excitement of the streets is overshadowed, quite literally, by an even greater spectacle: a massive stone construction that can only be the royal castle. This is where he is headed. As he makes his way through the city towards the castle, dirt streets become cobble, and guards appear with greater frequency. The chaotic tides of foot traffic are difficult to navigate at first, but then a bugle plays out what must be a summons of sorts, because almost everyone around him stops their daily business and follows the sound of the horn. They become a single current, all moving in the direction of the castle, and even if it wasn’t his destination, Virgil doesn’t think he has a choice except to be carried along by the tide.

They lead to a large courtyard, where hundreds of people appear to be gathering. He can see an entrance to the castle from here, but a whole crowd stands in his way, and he’s curious as to what exactly is going on, so he doesn’t try to push his way through. Instead, he stands in the midst of the massive crowd, hearing snatches of conversations but none that give him a clue as to what this all is. There’s a wooden stage of sorts in the center of the courtyard, and a few guards around it, but he doesn’t know what it’s all for. A royal decree, perhaps? A city meeting? Everything is so wildly different than what he is used to, and he is very out of his depth here. He can feel himself growing anxious, but there isn’t anything for him to do besides wait and see. (He could, in theory, ask someone near him if they know, but initiating a conversation with a stranger is even more daunting than just waiting.)

The gathered crowd becomes quiet at the sound of drums, but it isn’t until Virgil sees, peering past dozens of heads, a man being dragged towards the stage at the center, that a sense of dread truly begins to manifest in his stomach. There’s a low roar of whispering all around him, but Virgil can’t make out any words, only solemn faces.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all,” a loud voice announces. Silence falls over the people and heads turn almost in unison towards the source. Virgil follows their gazes up to a grand balcony of the castle. An older man dressed in fine robes and a golden crown steps into view, flanked by two others, with all three wearing Camelot-red cloaks. _The king_ , he realizes, stomach dropping. Whatever is going on, it’s important enough to be overseen by the king himself.

“This man,” the king continues, gesturing to the one who is being manhandled by a guard towards the barred-off stage, “James Thomas Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic.” Virgil’s heart skips a beat and he swallows, hands clenching around the straps of his rucksack to stop them from shaking. _Magic_. “And pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death.”

 _On penalty of death, on penalty of death, on penalty of death_ \- the words echo in his skull until they’re all he can hear. The king is still speaking but whatever he says is drowned out by the rush of blood in his head. James is being forced to his knees on the wooden platform, his head pushed onto a chopping block. The drumbeat continues, steadily marching towards a horrible inevitability, as another man- an executioner, Virgil is realizing far too late- lifts an axe. He doesn’t want to watch what is playing out before him; he wants to run far away from this stage and this axe these silent bystanders, but he cannot bring himself to look away, even as the blade plummets through the air and into flesh and bone and blood with a sickening _thud_ of death-

(If he had been able to look away, Virgil might have seen another spectator: one watching from within the castle, with an expression reflecting his own. But his eyes remained fixed ahead, and his silent ally in the moment went unnoticed.)

“When I came to this land,” King Uther says, finally tearing Virgil’s eyes away from the bloody mess of enacted justice, “This kingdom was mired in chaos. But with the people’s help, magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate 20 years since the Great Dragon was captured, and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin!”

The crowd around him begins to disperse as people return to their lives, as if witnessing a man’s life coming to an end is a regular occurrence. Maybe it is, he thinks, and the thought makes him want to cry, so much so that when he hears a wail, it seems only natural that it would have come from him. But he wasn’t the source of the cry, which he processes as the crowd shifts, moving away from an old, moaning woman.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic!” she yells, glaring up at the king. “It is you. With your hatred, and your ignorance,” she pauses, and once again Virgil’s focus is being pulled toward the spectacle, freezing him in place, him and everyone else around him. “You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son!”

The clear threat is enough to break the shocked stillness of the audience. “Seize her!” the king orders, and the guards present all move to approach her, before stopping once more as the lady hisses out a string of nonsense that seems to summon a whirlwind around her, one that envelops her completely before rising and vanishing, taking her with it. Murmurs wash over the square and people take their leave with a hint of urgency this time. Virgil, throat tight, follows the flow until he reaches a more secluded corner of the streets, where he leans against a wall and shut his eyes, gasping for air.

It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t known that magic was outlawed in Camelot- he’d grown up hearing whispered stories of the Great Purge and knowing the kingdom’s laws. Even though his home was just outside the borders of Camelot, it had been close enough for the fear and hatred of sorcery to bleed into his village, and for similar sentences to be carried out among its residents. But there’s a huge difference between growing up among the distrust and threats that drove a suspected-sorcerer like himself out of a town, and watching a man’s head be severed from his neck in front of an indifferent crowd. _That could be me_ , he thinks, faintly, and feels sick. Coming here was supposed to be a good thing. It was supposed to put distance between him and those who were calling for his head, to give him the chance to make a better life for himself, but this was far worse than anything he’d experienced in Ealdor. How the hell is he supposed to live in a place like this? 

_Because there’s no other option,_ he reminds himself. _Because home isn’t safe anymore. Because you promised you’d at least_ try.

Slowly, Virgil is able to pull himself back together. He adjusts his rucksack and inhales a lungful of urban stink, before he once more enters the bustle of the city. This time, however, there is a lack of awestruck staring as he walks towards the nearest entrance to the castle.

A guard stationed at the entrance points him in the direction of Logan, the court physician. He makes his way through several narrow corridors and staircases before reaching a door that is labeled with “Court Physician”.

The door is cracked open. Virgil knocks lightly, then louder, and when there is still no response, he takes a cautious step inside.

It’s a large, slightly chaotic space that smells distinctly earthy and herbal. Packed shelves and cabinets line most of the walls, and several large, cluttered tables take up most of the floor space. There’s a kitchen area and all sorts of medicinal and alchemical equipment. A cot is crammed into the corner as if it was a last-minute addition. Books, bottles, and candles cover nearly every surface, as well as an assortment of other strange objects Virgil couldn’t even begin to identify. He enters slowly, trying to take it all in. This is definitely the biggest room he’s ever been in, and there’s just so _much_ to look at. He could easily spend all day just investigating this room. But he’s not here just to marvel at stuff- he needs to find the man who lives here.

“Hello?” he calls, scanning the room for its occupant. There’s a staircase and several ladders, and his eyes follow them up to a narrow, rickety-looking wrap-around balcony lined with even more books. A man is standing on this balcony, perusing one of the many bookshelves.

“Er, Logan?” he calls again, louder. This time, the man startles. He jumps and spins in Virgil’s direction, bumping into the railing in the process, which snaps and _breaks_ under him and, caught off-balance, Logan topples off the balcony with a shout and then he’s falling, he’s _falling_ -

Panic _tugs_ at his gut, almost painful in its intensity, and his magic flares up in an instinctive response. Time s t r e t c h e s. Logan’s descent slows. He frantically glances around his surroundings before seeing the bed in the corner and, with barely a thought, it slides across the room to right underneath Logan. Finished, his magic releases its hold and time _snaps_ back into place like a rubber band, leaving his ears ringing. Logan lands safely on the bed with a yell.

There’s only a split second for Virgil to ask himself _why the fuck did I just do that oh my god I’m gonna die now_ before Logan is pushing himself upright, sputtering.

“What did you just do?” he demands. He takes a step forward and Virgil takes one back. 

“Uh-” Should he run? He’s pretty sure this is Logan, and if it is, his mom said he should be safe with him, but he just watched a man get executed on _suspicion_ of magic-

“Tell me.” There’s an intensity to his voice that Virgil can’t decipher, and he needs to give an answer but he has no clue how much to tell him.

“I- I don’t know,” he chokes out. He should run. He really, really wants to run. Why can’t he run?

“I know what it was,” Logan says, staring at him, head cocked. Virgil can practically see his brain whirring behind his sharp eyes. He doesn’t miss the way the man’s gaze flickers towards the open door behind him and oh _no_ , he’s going to call the guards, he can see it now, can see himself being dragged away in cuffs and thrown in prison and brought up onto the same stage as that sorcerer James and kneeling in his sticky remains and hearing the whistle of an axe being swung towards his neck-

He’s only half-aware of his pathetic, gasping noises as he struggles to breathe with a too-tight chest. Logan is saying something, summoning the guards probably, except it’s far too quiet for that, and then he’s approaching Virgil and placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him to a bench. When the backs of his knees hit wood he sits, and Logan sits next to him. He takes one of Virgil’s hands and places it on his own chest, letting Virgil feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing. It takes him far longer than he would’ve preferred but eventually he’s able to match the man’s breathing, and the world around him eases back into focus.

“Are you with me now?” Logan asks, and Virgil nods, keeping his head down so he can hide behind his bangs. “Based on your reaction, I assume I do not need to tell you how dangerous what you just did was. We are both lucky that no one else saw.”

Virgil says nothing. He knows it’s probably useless at this point but he’s still clinging to the familiarity of deniability, hoping that maybe this person will buy that he didn’t cause his bed to move across the room, even though he knows deep down that his freak-out speaks louder than any words he can say at this point.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Nowhere.” He peeks through his bangs to gauge his reaction.

Logan frowns. “So then how is it you know how to do magic?”

“I- I don’t.”

“Do not lie to me.”

His words are quiet but there’s an authority to them, one of confidence and experience, and it breaks the last thin strand holding Virgil to his denial. There’s no point. Logan knows, and it’s pretty clear that he’s not going to drop it until he gets his answers. 

“I’m not lying,” he says, and when Logan’s frown deepens, he continues. “I’ve never studied magic, or- or been taught."

“That’s impossible,” he says. “You must have studied somewhere.”

“I didn’t! I was born like this.” This time, Logan is silent, and Virgil can feel his eyes on him. He swallows. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

Logan abruptly stands, and for a second Virgil is terrified that he’s about to go get the palace guards or strike him or _something_ , but instead he just says, “Not unless you give me reason to.” There’s a pause as Virgil processes this and decides that, okay, he can work with that. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

Oh, god, he’s an idiot. How did he completely forget the whole reason he’s even here in the first place? “I- I have a letter,” he says, shrugging off his pack to retrieve it. He was supposed to give it to Logan immediately, but he’s already fucked that up pretty thoroughly. “There.” He holds it out and Logan accepts it, but he just directs his frown at the paper instead of Virgil.

“I don’t have my glasses,” he says.

Christ, this whole thing has been a disaster. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity, but Logan doesn’t seem the type to appreciate the strange humor of their situation. 

“I’m Virgil,” he finally says. 

Thankfully, there’s recognition, and Logan’s frown smooths out to a pleasant expression. “Oh! Hunith’s son, yes?”

“Yeah. And you _are_ Logan, right? The court physician?”

“That is correct,” he says, almost defensively, like he’s used to people questioning him. He adjusts the collar of his shirt. “Apologies. I can’t believe it escaped my mind that you were meant to arrive today.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I probably would have too,” he tries. Now that they’re finally on the same page, he wants to at least try to make Logan not hate him, since he’s going to be helping him (that is, if he’s still willing to, after everything that’s happened).

“How would you forget your own arrival?” Logan asks, staring at him. Virgil tries not to squirm. He’s doing a great job at making himself look like a total idiot, isn’t he.

“Never mind,” he mutters. 

“Right then,” Logan says, “You may put your bag in there.” He gestures to a door behind him, and Virgil knows a dismissal when he hears one.

“Right.” He stands up and, still curled inward, makes his way across the room to the door. However, his anxiety is still nagging at him, and he knows he won’t be able to think of anything else until he checks: “So, you won’t say anything about the, y’know-” he waves a hand at the broken railing and the misplaced bed.

“I won’t,” Logan agrees, eyeing the spot of his near-injury (or perhaps even death, Virgil realizes, and quickly shoves that thought down). He appears lost in thought, so Virgil continues on to the room, but is stopped by the man speaking up once more: “Virgil.” He turns again at the sound of his name. “I believe I should say thank you,” Logan says, not meeting Virgil’s eyes, but he sounds sincere. 

Some of the lingering anxiety in him is replaced with a warm feeling. He doesn’t quite know how to respond- You’re welcome? My pleasure?- so he just nods once and enters the back chamber.

It’s a bedroom- _his_ bedroom, now. Logan must have given it up for him, he realizes, and thinks of the odd, stilted physician he just met with a wave of fondness. Sure, magic is banned, and he’ll get executed if anyone else finds out what he can do, but maybe Camelot isn’t _all_ bad, if there are people like Logan living here too. 

It’s with that thought that he drops his pack on the floor and goes to the single window in the room, through which he can hear the sounds of the city below. He opens the window and looks out at the expanse of houses and streets, at the dozens lit windows, at the noises of children and animals and celebration, all spread out before him, and for the first time, he feels… _something_. Not hope, exactly, but… close to it. And right now, that’s good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this and/or would like to see more of this, please do let me know! I really appreciate any kudos and comments!
> 
>  **Content Warnings:** minor character death witnessed by Virgil, mentions of blood, swearing, threat of imprisonment/death, general anxiety/panic, two brief panic attacks experienced by Virgil, and a near-death experience of a major character.
> 
> Link to AU-gust 2020 Writing Challenge Post: https://augustwritingchallenge.tumblr.com/


	2. The Physician, the Ward, and the Avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into what else is happening in the kingdom of Camelot that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've decided I'm going to be continuing this, I think, but i can't guarantee I'll be updating regularly. Because of this, I've decided to move the alternate perspective sections of Logan and Janus into a second chapter, and add a third section, so only the last paragraph of this is actually new. I think this way will be easier for me to deal with.
> 
> Content Warnings can be found at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Out in the main physician's chamber, Logan locates his spectacles and sits down with the letter Virgil gave to him. He holds it up to the light of a candle and begins to read:

> _Dear Logan,_
> 
> _I know you do not know me personally, but as you know, your father and I were very close. He was a good man, and I am truly grateful that you have followed in his footsteps to become one as well. I believe that you are your father’s son, and it is because of this that I am trusting you with these matters, and now with my son. As I mentioned in our last correspondence, ours is a small village, and Virgil is at odds with the people here. However, this divide has only grown worse, and I find myself fearing for his life. As much as it pains me to say this, he cannot stay here any longer. He needs guidance and a purpose for his gifts. Although you do not have the same experience as Gaius, you have done well for yourself, and inherited much of your father’s wisdom and competence Perhaps you may impart some of his teachings upon my son as well. Most importantly, though, I beg of you to keep him safe, and may God save you both._
> 
> _Hunith_

Logan reads through the letter three times, to be sure that he has understood it in its entirety, before removing his spectacles and placing his head in his hands. _Oh, father_ , he thinks, _what did you say that made her believe I’m capable of something like this? And what did you do to convince this woman to place not only her trust, but the life of her son, in your-_ our- _hands?_

He stands and brings a candle with him up to the second-story, where this strange young boy perhaps just saved his life earlier. He goes to the furthest shelf, where his father’s journals reside. He removes the earliest volume and brings it back to his workspace, where he takes a seat and once again dons his spectacles. He has been putting off going through his father’s writings for far too long, and for such a silly reason as _grief_ . Now, though, he is being confronted by the results of the choices his father made, in the form of a teenager with illegal magic. It’s enough for him to be concerned, especially when it seems that _he_ is to be responsible for keeping this boy alive. He doesn’t doubt his own competency- that would be foolish, considering that he is the youngest court physician in the history of Camelot- but this is a unique challenge. And, he reasons, the best way to face a new challenge is through research. In this case, reading through his father’s writings- of which there is much for him to get through. Sighing, he flips to the first page and settles in for what he knows will be a long, taxing night.

* * *

Across the castle, another of its occupants is deep in thought. They’re staring out a window that overlooks the courtyard where the execution took place earlier, and it’s this person who had mirrored Virgil’s distress at the proceedings, although neither of them knew it. Perhaps future events might have unfolded differently, if they had both been aware that they weren’t as alone as they thought they were, or perhaps it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

This person cuts a striking figure, with light brown skin, sharp features, and long, dark hair that’s been pulled over their right shoulder instead of their left, a conscious choice that draws attention to the heavy scarring on the left side of their face and chest instead of concealing it. 

The door to the chamber opens and the king enters, closing the door behind him before crossing the room with long, purposeful strides.

“Janus,” King Uther calls, and Janus turns to him, face instantly smoothing out into a neutral expression. “What is this? Why are you not joining us at the feast?”

“Oh, yes,” they drawl, sounding bored, “Because chopping someone’s head off is _always_ cause for celebration.”

King Uther works his jaw. “It was simple justice for what he’d done,” he says.

“To whom, exactly?” they ask, raising an eyebrow. “He practiced some magic. He didn’t _hurt_ anyone.” 

“You were not around 20 years ago,” Uther says, rising tension clear in his voice. “You have no idea what it was like.”

“And how long, exactly, are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?” Janus asks, almost patronizingly.

“Until they realize there is no room for magic in my kingdom!” Uther snaps, voice booming in the small chamber. “You will be with me when I greet Lady Helen,” he says, and it’s not a question.

“ _Yes_ , I _definitely_ want to be a part of that _-_ ”

“I am your guardian!” Uther seethes. “I expect you to do as I ask. If you show me no respect, at least respect our finest singer.” 

Janus’ eyes flash with anger, but they don’t say anything as Uther spins around and starts walking out of the chamber. It isn’t until he’s almost gone that they call after him, voice cold: “You know, the more brutal you are, the more enemies you’ll create!” But Uther doesn’t stop, nor does he acknowledge their words. He simply exits and closes the door behind him, leaving Janus alone once more with their thoughts.

* * *

(In a forest on the edge of Camelot, a beautiful young woman by the name of Helen is camping for the night, accompanied by several of Camelot's men and set to arrive at the castle late the next day. It is as she's preparing to go to sleep inside her tent that, an old woman, full of rage and grief at the loss of her son, ambushes and kills the Lady. With a muttered spell, the vial hanging around her neck begins to glow and the old woman's appearance changes, becoming that of the deceased Lady Helen. She smiles, knowing her plan is in motion with none the wiser.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warnings:** arguing and yelling occurring between a parent and child, non-graphic minor character death
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed this! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and/or would like to see more of this, please do let me know! I really appreciate any kudos and comments!
> 
>  **Content Warnings:** minor character death witnessed by Virgil, mentions of blood, swearing, threat of imprisonment/death, general anxiety/panic, two brief panic attacks experienced by Virgil, and a near-death experience of a major character.
> 
> Link to AU-gust 2020 Writing Challenge Post: https://augustwritingchallenge.tumblr.com/


End file.
